Nevra's Scrapbook
by Nevra Black
Summary: This is where I post snippets. Lost chapters, plot bunnies, one shots. All who are all poor little orphan stories, who I am uncertain if they'll grow up into real stories or not. Let the plot bunnies begin their attack. This will not have a continuum, but I might play with some of them later.
1. Sea of Dark Glass

**_This is what I do when I'm bored. I write meaningless little ficlets, and they are usually too short to do anything with. But I like them! And I was watching the first Transformers movie, and they killed Prowl. I didn't like that, so I started this. There. Origin story/rant complete. I'll be over there. Enjoy._**

_Sea of Dark Glass_

_Pairing- Jazz X Prowl_

_Transformers: the movie_

_Rating- T_

_Genre- Supernatural/angst_

_(Prowl's POV)_

I am dead.

How am I dead?

Why am I dead?

The world isn't right. Everything is fragmented, safety glass shattered into pieces, darkness and light playing with one another in my vision.

I can see everything. There's my home, my parents, my lover, my world. The images have no order. The show everything at once, past, present future, what might have been. As I drift, nothing makes sense. There is no logic.

How am I dead?

I am dead.

And the glass shatters as I see him.

Azure visor, black and white, a smile that hides the cares of his life. The beautiful face I'd never spoken the entire truth to.

Jazz, I ask the image, why am I dead?

But the only reply is the void.


	2. Agent Fowler meets Diablo

**Hee hee hee. What happens when Diablo meets Fowler. Ratchet gets a new stresser, thats what!  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Nevra's Lost Chapters: By Fate and Energon Bound.<strong>

**Fowler vs Diablo**

**Or Ratchet should probably delegate some things. **

Special Agent William Fowler sighed, knowing that he would get his daily report from Ratchet the Hatchet. He wasn't a happy man. In fact, he and Ratchet did not get along. The medic was abrasive, grouchy and snide, and Fowler had enough on his plate without that jerk messing up his nerves.

He waited for Ratchet to pick up, watching the screen with his ordinary look of irritation. Finally, the mech of his nightmares appeared, chevron, frown and all.

"Agent Fowler." Grumbled Ratchet, just as happy about this meeting as Fowler.

"Ratchet." Replied Fowler.

The awkward silence that followed was broken by Ratchet. "Well, now that the preliminaries are done, shall we continue?"

"Let's." Said Fowler. "You bunch have been dangerously quiet."

"I thought you preferred us quiet." Ratchet said gruffly.

"At least when you 'Bots are causing trouble, I know what you're up to."

The ambulance glared. "Shall I report now?"

"I'm not stopping you."

The medic launched into his report, mentioning the need for certain parts that he could use for spares, locating new energon reserves, and the few battles that occurred near civilians.

Of course, it was then Diablo toddled out of his quarters and into the hanger.

"Hey, Hatchet. The organics are being nuisances. Thought you said I needed rest."

Miko was on his shoulder. "No fair, dude."

"Life isn't fair." Growled Diablo. He picked her up and set her in the human area, grinning.

"Ratchet, what in the Sam Hill is that?" Demanded Fowler.

Diablo suddenly looked over at the monitor. "What's with the squishy?"

"Holy-!" Exclaimed Fowler, as Diablo appeared in the camera's line of sight. "What the hell is that?"

"What the slag is that!" Said Diablo mockingly.

"I was coming to you." Grumbled Ratchet.

"Well, I prefer my own introductions." Replied the Kaonian. "What is this organic's purpose? Hacking, making loud noises or sitting with a stick up it's tailpipe?"

Miko snickered. Fowler stared at the red terror. "So when were you going to tell me about this joker?"

"I was coming to him." Said Ratchet. "This is Diablo. He's a Neutral who came asking for our assistance."

"He looks like Bucket-head." Remarked the agent.

"who came up with that?" Diablo asked, grinning. "I gotta go tell Megsy."

"You associate with Decepticons, soldier?"

"Maybe. Kind of hard not to." The red warrior shrugged. "So, what is this one's function again?"

"Shut up Diablo." Snapped Ratchet.

The horned mech chuckled. "No thank you. I'll be in my quarters if you need more antagonism."

Didn't know he knew such a big word, thought the medic darkly as the winged mech left. Fowler was staring daggers at the Cybertronian through the screen.

"Ratchet. Do you want to tell me why a practical doppelganger of Lord Kill Everything is toddling around your base? And why Prime would allow it?"

"Want to? No. Should I? Probably." The medic said sourly. "Why don't you come over here and hear it from Optimus himself?"

"Depends." Said Fowler. "Am I going to be spending most of my time trying not to die?"

The look Ratchet gave him said 'are you fragging serious?'. Fowler sighed. "Fine. I'm on my way."

"Don't hurry." Said Ratchet. He then ended transmission. And rested his helm in the wall, exhaling.

Primus, he hated that man.

Arcee walked into the room and saw Ratchet just standing there, staring at the elevator like it was going to bite him. That could only mean one thing. Fowler was coming.

The blue femme decided to leave before it started. Optimus wasn't here to keep the two from killing each other, and she wanted nothing to do with this.

She was halfway to safety when suddenly Diablo walked by.

"aren't you on bedrest?" She asked him.

"You're kidding, babe." He chuckled. "I wouldn't miss this for all the energon on this planet."

"You're easily entertained."

"Indeed. I believe humans call it boredom."

Arcee rolled her optics and kept going. If he wanted blood so bad, he should watch human reality television.

Fowler stepped through the elevator, frowning as soon as he saw the medic.

"Ratchet."

"Agent Fowler. You are here to talk to Optimus?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

Ratchet nodded. "He's on his way. Take a seat."

Fowler opened his mouth to say something, only to stop and sigh. He wandered over to the couch and sat, which is when Diablo made his appearance.

"Hey, Ratch." He said loudly. "Where's the Organic. I'm hungry!"

Fowler looked up abruptly, eyes wide as a cat meme's. Diablo was watching and chuckled. "So, how many pets do we have, Doc?"

"Diablo, they aren't pets."

"Whatever." Said the horned mech, approaching Fowler. The agent gulped. Diablo was as tall as Megatron, his armour dented, scratched, scarred and chipped, optics orangey red. He looked down at the little organic, and grinned.

"Fowler, eh. What's your purpose?"

The agent looked up, hoping that this guy wasn't like a dog, and could smell fear. "I'm Special Agent William Fowler, designated liaison for the U.S government to the Autobots."

Diablo grinned. "Huh. Pretty stressful, huh, human?"

"Sometimes." Admited Fowler

"Like, if I did this." Said Diablo. He suddenly picked Fowler up, claws ripping the humans shirt. "What kind of creature wears such flimsy armour?"

Fowler squeaked. "Put me down!"

Diablo grinned, and held Fowler in front of his face like a bug. "Make me, squishy."

The two glared at each other until Ratchet said, "Put the human down, Diablo."

The horned Kaonian looked at the ambulance, grinned even wider and said to Fowler. "Wanna frag with Hatchet's processor?"

Fowler stopped struggling. He looked at the red mech thoughtfully.

"I'm listening." The human said cautiously.

It was three days after the human had come to discuss Diablo's presence with the Prime. It had been decided Diablo would be watched carefully, and that Ratchet would report back to Fowler today.

The medic sighed, and fired off a report to Fowler. Not an oral one, thank Primus. Ratchet had enough to deal with.

About a minute after, something popped up on the screen. Ratchet turned and looked at the screen.

_Thanks for signing up for cat facts daily. You will now receive daily facts about cats._

What the Pit was this?

Another stream of text appeared. _To unsubscribe, press 8._

Annoyed, Ratchet pressed 8.

_Action not recognised. Thank you for subscribing to daily cat facts. Did you know cats have thirty vertebrae? Would you like a cat fact every hour? Yes, or No?_

Frag. Why wasn't this working. Ratchet sent 'No'.

_Command not recognized. Did you know in Ancient Egypt killing a cat was punishable with death?_

Ratchet's optic twitched.

In another part of the base, Diablo chuckled as Fowler sent him ideas, and then the red mech sent them to Ratchet over a modified human computer.

He turned on the speaker, and Fowler's face appeared. "Is it time?"

"I believe so, squishy." Diablo said with a grin. "Wait for it."

A minute passed, and Diablo sent two more messages, then sat back.

"Five… Four…. Three…. Two…. And que."

Ratchet's scream of frustration was heard all around the base. The two mischief makers grinned at each other over the screen.

"Pleasure doing business with you, fleshie." Said Diablo.

"Like wise, bot." Said Fowler, grinning a little too happily as the melodious sounds of frustrated Hatchet echoed down the hall and through his speakers.

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><p><strong>Again. Hee hee hee. <strong>


	3. Prime Prey

**So, here we have a short that might grow into a full story someday. I dunno. I've got two going right now. I might make it a few chappies long once By Fate and Energon Bound is done, while I start on it's part 2. Until then.**

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><p><em>The Prime Prey.<em>

_A TF: Animated Short_

_Rated- T._

_Apologies in advance for my atrocious Blitzwing accent. _

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><p>The hunger was getting painful.<p>

Slag, it wasn't fair she couldn't find decent energon. There was just such slim pickings on this planet. Yes. Very slim.

Blink wandered through the woods, violet optics pensive. It simply was beyond cru-

Wait. That scent. That voice.

A Cybertronian? On this rock?

Blink could hardly believe her good fortune.

She crept along the forest floor, listening carefully. It almost sounded like multiple mechs. Hmm. That increases the risk, but Blink loved risk, as long as it wasn't too likely to result in her demise.

She approached a clearing well within her territory. Near her stock of energon. Now, that just wasn't nice. She needed that energon, disgusting as it was, and they had no right to just walk into her home and raid her pantry.

Blink slid, wraith-like, behind a boulder, and peered around.

A bulky flier stood in the clearing, his paint silver and purple with a grey, rather handsome face, and his armour was designed to take hits. He was a flier, which meant she'd have to disable that ability to get what she wanted, and his bulk would pose a problem, but only if she was too slow. She could already pick out seams in the armour.

What Blink didn't get was why he was just standing there, talking to himself.

Oh. Wait. His face switched to a red, visored face, a little less appealing in that it was incredibly aggressive looking and yelling quite loudly. Blink wasn't one for yelling. Screaming, though, was another matter. His face switched back to the grey one, and it was then Blink realised that he was arguing with himself.

How very interesting.

Perhaps, he could offer some entertainment before the inevitable end, at least. One didn't often come across such experiments that survived the procedure and following, er, complications. Blink herself was well aware of that.

She listened to what the flier had to say, curiosity temporarily overriding instinct.

"The energon zignal vas over there." Said the grey mech coolly.

A new face, black with red, jagged features, appeared, grinning maniacly. "Ja. But ve've been vrong before." He said. "Going in circles. Ring around the rozie, pocket full of-"

"Vould you shut up!" Snarled the aggressive face. It was such a strange thing to watch. She laughed a bit, but Blink cut it off in time to a snicker. Musn't alert the prey, naughty Blink.

The delectable, rare prey.

Oh. Wait. He'd heard her, and had whirled about to look about the forest, cliff and boulders, weapons ready.

"Who is out zere? Show yourzelf!" He snapped crisply, still keeping to the cool face.

There was that taint of beginning fear. Blink smiled, watching in amusement. His face changed again to the mad one. "Come out, come out, vherever you are!" He sang.

She laughed aloud. There was no point in hiding anymore. He knew, and her laughter would taunt him further. Goad him into foolishness.

"Show yourself, my lovely." Sang the mech, before his face changed to that yelly red one. Blink grasped for a suitable term to describe that red face. The organics called them meatheads, if memory served.

Yes. Meathead.

The meathead yelled, "Before we shoot you dead!"

"Why would you do that?" She asked sweetly, stepping into his line of sight.

Instantly, his cool persona returned to the forefront, eyeing the femme warily.

"A femme." He said, examining her carefully. She carried no ensignia, though it looked as though she once had but had very crudely removed it.

"A mech." She said mockingly. She looked him up and down, and licked her lip components absently.

"Vhat is a femme doing out here?"

"Hunting for energon, like you." She said, almost shyly. "But you see, I found this place a while back. It's mine."

"Is it?" Said the mech. "I see no zigns of your claim."

The femme smiled strangely, her odd violet optics narrowing. "I know how you Decepticons work. A lot of big bullies, picking on a femme." Suddenly, she out and out grinned.

The mech caught sight of those four long fang denta in her mouth. He looked taken aback.

"You aren't the only freak around here." Blink hissed. Then she lunged.

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><p><strong>So, what do you think. Let me know if you like it!<br>**

**Luv ya'll!**

**-Nevra**

**Other stories in the scrapbook:**

**Sea of Shattered Glass- Prowl X Jazz; Prowl after his untimely demise in the animated movie. **

**Agent Fowler meets Diablo- The title says it all.**


End file.
